Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue
by prussianchickie
Summary: Elizabeta Héderváry is having an ordinary day at work when a not-so-ordinary customer barges into her flower shop, demanding a very particular type of bouquet...


Elizabeta hummed to herself as she selected a beautiful yellow glass vase from the storage closet. The next set of arrangements would have a spring theme, and she was glad to finally have some free time to play around with different vases and colors. Bright, colorful bouquets were very popular this time of year, which meant she could really have fun experimenting. And as someone who genuinely loved flowers, she couldn't be happier.

She smiled down at the empty vase as she began to imagine what flowers it might compliment most. Or perhaps she could try a contrasting look instead... Her thoughts were disrupted by the sound of the shop door opening and closing, the bell above the entrance chiming. "I'll be with you in a moment!" she called out, closing the closet door softly.

She entered the shop area behind the counter and nearly dropped the vase as her new customer slammed money down on the countertop.

"How do I passive-aggressively say 'fuck you' in flower?"

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"How do I passive-aggressively say 'fuck you' in flower?" The man wore a serious expression, obviously not joking with her. His eyes narrowed, and she was caught off guard by their strange colors. They contrasted with his silvery-white hair, and she wondered vaguely if he had dyed his hair. Either way, they were a wonderful color combination, very unique and interesting...

She set the yellow vase on the countertop, and smirked. Ah, a 'fuck you' bouquet... She loved making those. Quickly getting over the initial shock of her new customer's actions and looks, she asked, "Problem with your significant other?"

"No significant other."

"A relative?"

"Nope."

"A work problem, then? Sticking it to your boss?"

"Would you be brave enough to do something like that?" he scoffed.

Elizabeta smirked. "I did, that's how I ended up here."

His eyes widened in surprise. "You got fired?"

"No, you think anyone would bother to look up what those flowers meant? I quit. Shoved the bouquet at them, complete with a small card that said 'fuck you', and walked out." She grinned evilly. "And trust me, even if the recipient doesn't know the real meanings of the flowers, that card is like a slap to the face. Trust me, I've sent plenty myself."

His eyes lit up, and she stared at them, fascinated by their red and blue hues. He leaned closer over the counter. "That. Is perfect. I want a 'fuck you' card, too."

"I can do that. More than happy to!" She looked at him curiously. "Someone must have really pissed you off."

"Yeah."

When he didn't continue, she glanced down at the mark he'd slammed down just a minute before, and raised an eyebrow. "Just so you know... Bouquets are expensive." She almost laughed as his shoulders drooped, and decided to give him the interesting customer discount. Being her own boss had its perks, and making up discounts was one of them. "But tell you what..." She trailed, waiting for him to give his name.

It took him a moment to realize what she was asking. "Oh. Uh... Gilbert," he answered, straightening his shoulders again.

"Tell you what, Gilbert. I can't turn down a request for a 'fuck you' bouquet, so if that's all you have, fine." She grinned as his eyes lit up once again.

He beamed, his gratitude all too clear in his expression. "Thank you! You're so awesome...?"

"Heh. Elizabeta," she replied, turning and walking back to the storage area. "Wait here. It'll just be a few minutes."

As she worked, Elizabeta wondered what Gilbert's story was. It wasn't a spat with a girlfriend or boyfriend... It wasn't a family issue... It wasn't a work problem... She wanted to say it was over something silly, but he'd been so serious when he first came in...

When she finished and brought the bouquet back out to the counter he was over by the window, looking at a few displays. "Here you go, one 'fuck you' bouquet," she announced, setting it on the counter. He quickly made his way back over, and a huge smile stretched across half his face as he crouched to get a closer look.

"Awesome!" he declared, nodding enthusiastically as he prodded the small card. Upon it, written in her best and fanciest cursive writing, were the words 'FUCK YOU'. A blank look suddenly came to his eyes, and he looked up at her. "But, uh... How is it a 'fuck you' bouquet, exactly? Aside from the card?"

Now it was her turn to beam. Ah, how she loved explaining the meanings of flowers! She pointed to each flower in turn as she answered, "The geraniums represent stupidity. The foxglove, insincerity. The meadowsweet is uselessness. The yellow carnations mean 'you have disappointed me', and the orange lilies are just straight up hatred."

"That's exactly what I needed! All of that! Thanks a bunch!" He straightened and gave her a thumbs up as he slid the mark to her. "You really know your flowers!"

She accepted it and grinned. "Thank you! And thank you for the business!"

As he picked up the bouquet, she debated over asking him for the story, but decided against it. If he hadn't wanted to openly tell her in the first place, then it wasn't any of her business. Her business was flowers, not people. "Come back anytime you need to send another," she joked, pulling the yellow vase in front of her now that the counter was clear again. Back to work...

"Oh, I will!" he joked back, still beaming. He paused in turning to go, and looked at the vase as well. "Your next bouquet?" he asked.

She nodded. "Trying to figure out what flowers to use."

"If I can make a suggestion..." He smirked. "Cornflowers would be really awesome with that yellow."

She tilted her head, staring at the vase as she pictured it. Yes... "Blue and yellow, huh? ...I like it!"

"You're welcome!" He grinned and waved as he backed out the door. "See ya! Thanks again!"

"Anytime!" she called, waving back.

She sighed as she lowered her hand, her smile fading. He was certainly an interesting guy... He'd livened her day at least a little. Too bad she'd never see him again...

She pulled the mark from her apron and opened the register. Even if she'd lost some money, she knew it was worth it. He'd left happy, and that had made her happy. That was the best part, bringing joy to people through flowers.

Her eyes glanced down at the mark as she made to put it in the cash drawer, and she froze. Wait... What was that? Written in pen, there was a phone number, and underneath that the words 'CALL ME MAYBE'. She snorted. Hadn't that song died out years ago? She couldn't help but smirk as she closed the register and pocketed the mark again.

Gilbert... What a dork.

He was quite possibly her new favorite customer.


End file.
